A Bottle of Booze 226 Little White Pills
by Vamptress RayZor
Summary: Rating for language, suicidal tendencies, and large amounts of alcohol consumption. After his death, Yuffie blamed him for leaving her alone. She tries to help the hurt with alcohol and resorts to desperate measures. Reffie and RuTif


_**A Bottle of Booze**_

_**(226 Little White Pills)**_

_Yuffie Kisaragi2_

_Disclaimer: I own nada_

_Dedication: To Nikki, who's in a bit of a slump as of late. Get over him, girl!_

_Summary: Rating for language, suicidal tendencies, and large amounts of alcohol consumption. After his death, Yuffie blamed him for leaving her alone. She tries to help the hurt with alcohol and resorts to desperate measures. Reffie and RuTif_

A bottle of booze, half empty, sat on the end table next to an ash tray with a lit cigarette residing in it. The lamp that had once also occupied that very end table had been broken some time ago by a disgruntled cat, who was currently glaring at its owner with yellow eyes. The tabby's owner merely reached over and grabbed the bottle of booze, taking a gulp, ignoring the burning effect it seemed to have on her tongue and throat. She was pretty much used to it by now.

The orange tabby let out a yowl of displeasure, but got no real reaction. His owner ignored the yowl and picked up her cigarette, taking a long drag, letting the smoke out of her mouth as the nicotine took its course. She really should have beeen getting ready for _his_ funeral, but she wasn't. She should have been crying again, but the tears couldn't find their way to her too-dry smokey orbs, it seemed.

Had he been there, - which, of course, he wasn't - he would have joined her in the smoking and drinking. He would have critiqued her prissy way of holding her Marlboro Red, the way she would take two hits, tehn a gulp of the fire water. His aquamarines would have had that mischievous glint, his crimson hair would have been messy, his navy blue suit would have been crumpled and creased.

"Leviathon," she muttered, running an elegant hand over her blood shot eyes to clear away the image of _him_ that she had conjured from her memory. Upon re-opening the storm cloud eyes, she saw only her orange tabby where she had imagined _him_ standing. Placing the cigarette in her mouth to free one hand, she got up from the recliner and went to the kitchen, the bottle of booze in her left hand. The world spun a little faster than usual as she staggered into the small kitchen.

Grabbing the cat's food from a cabinet, her eyes found three small, brown pill bottles. Sleeping pills, she vaguely remembered. One bottle for her, one for _him_, and one that Rude had swiped for them. _He_ had never really needed them and she had rarely used them, leaving two of the three nearly full. The third one, however, was half empty - she was pessimistic this time, therefore it was half empty, not half full.

Forgetting about the feline for a minute, the woman took a long drag from her cigarette, then put it out on the counter top, not particularly caring anymore. She swiped all three bottle from the cabinet and opened them, spilling their contents onto the counter. She took another swig from the bottle firmly clutched in her left hand, then started counting the pills.

A pissed off orange tabby hopped onto the adjacent counter top, glaring heatedly at the woman. She ignored him entirely, however, by getting lost in the counting of the little white pills. After a few minutes, she blinked her blood shot smokey eyes and took another gulp of firewater.

"Two-hundred and twenty-six," she said aloud, her voice hoarse and scratchy. The cat to her rightmewed pathetically, but still got no response. "How fast would those kill a person?" she wondered idly. As she went to take another drink, she noticed that her bottle was empty. Cursing, she looked around for a bottle of whiskey, beer, or _anything_ as long as it had some blissful alcohol. She settled on Vodka, knowing that she could put away a fifth and still be considered conscious. Three years of living with an alcoholic had toughened her up enough to allow consumption of almost lethal amounts of alcohol.

Breaking open the bottle, she took a swig of her new choice of alcohol, grimacing at the contrasting tastes between the two. She finally got the cat's food and set it on the floor for him, all the while searching for her pack of smokes. When the door opened, allowing too much sunlight into her dark home, she cursed loudly. Upon seeing the large, dark-skinned man that allowed the sunlight in, she smirked and lit up a newly found cigarette. "The fuck you doin' here?" she mumbled through the cigarette, then removing it to take another drink.

He scanned the living room, which was a wreck, then look ed at the figure leaning non-chalantly against the door frame connecting the kitchen and living room. It was too out of character for her to leave the house in such disarray. Then again, he couldn't blame her. His aqua tinted brown eyes took in the woman's appearance and he sighed. Her shoulder-length locks were un-styled and messy, her smokey gray eyes blood shot, and she only wore, from what he could tell, a light blue button-up that fell to her mid-thigh. "You're going to give yourself alcohol poinsoning," he said in low tones, indicating to the bottle in her hand.

She snorted in a a most-un-lady-like fashion. "The fuck do you care?" she took a long drag off her cigarette, her hand shaking somewhat. "Ain't you s'posed to be at his... his..." She closed her eyes and swallowed back the tears that suddenly appeared. Two days of crying should be enough, the third was supposed to be the drunken stupor day.

"I was on my way and decided to pick you up," he replied evenly, not liking the way her hands shook. The sarcastic smirk on her face was only a mask to hide the hurt, the booze a way to help the hurt, the cigarettes... Well, the were a bad habit that she had picked up somewhere along the way, probably from _him_.

"Well, I'm not going," she told him resolutely. "He shouldn'ta left me here alone, so this's my revenge." She sounded suspisciously like a pouting child, but the big man did not tell her this. Her smokey gray eyes remained on his own, though, boring holes into his aqua tinted brown.

With a nod, he acknowledged that he could do nothing to force her to go. She laughed dryly and held up the bottle in a mock toast. When he did not even nod his head in response, she shrugged and took a drink anyway. "You're going to drink yourself to death," the big man warned her. "_He_ wouldn't want that."

Her blood shot orbs glared angrily at him. "_He_ fuckin' left me here alone, Rude! Besides, at least I'll die doin' somethin' exciting!" She was amazed at how slurred her own words were, but kept talking anyway. "'S'better 'en gettin' my ass kicked by some damned disease, ain't it!?"

Rude cringed at the way she spoke her of disease. MAKO poisoning would make her waste away until she was only a shell, only a ghost of what she was. His best friend had been there when she had received the diagnosis, and had vowed on his honor as a Turk to stay with her through everything. Most of the time, she was just fine and dandy. Every now and then, though, she would lie in bed cluelessly. She wouldn't recognize their home, her lover, her cat... She couldn't remember her own name!

"Reno wouldn't want you to be like this," Rude said in her perpetually quiet attitude.

"Yeah, well... Re-" she stopped herself and tried again. "He's not here, is he?" Clumsily, she staggered into the kitchen, her cigarettes and lighter tucked into the pocket of the shirt she wore. Those small white pills, all laid out perfectly, beckoned her. Ignoring the bald man in the living room, who could not see her, she scooped up a handful, popped them into her mouth, and washed them down with a large drink of Vodka.

Rude, unable to see her from where he stood in her living room, was oblivious to the two-hundred, twenty-six little white pills that she took in less than two minutes, Vodka chasers after every handful. He waited for another few minutes before speaking again. "I'm going to the funeral," he said finally, but got no reply.

She heard him, but his voice was as distorted as the colors around her blended together. Her mind started to detach itself from reality and the room spun too quickly, making to counter move away from her. She fell to the floor with a loud thud and a crash, causing her lover's best friend to run in and check on her.

"Shit!" she heard him say frantically. She wondered idly if Rude had ever been frantic in his entire life. Her next thought was about the crash she'd heard and the slicing pain beneath her... Was that her Vodka bottle? If so, she wondered if there was more in her house somewhere.

_Yuffie! Hold on!_

But her last coherent thought was if she would see Reno and Aeris in the Life Stream.

_Hold on, Yuffie! Just fucking hold on! Help is on the way!_

A green haze filled her mind and holding on just hurt too fucking much. She let go, the numbing relief spreading throughout her body as she shut her eyes. What would life be without love? What was her life worth without Reno?

Rude could see her physically give up and cursed loudly, picking her up and carrying her toward the door. Within twenty minutes, the paramedics arrived and declared her officially dead. With Tifa being his girlfriend, and the only person left to decide what could and could not happen to Yuffie's body, Rude was able to keep them from doing to atopsy, thereby ruling her death as a result from the MAKO poisoning instead of suicide.

The couple stood over two fresh mounds of dirt, the tombstones imprinted with the same dramatic rose dripping stone blood. On one, the name _Yuffie Kaiya Kisaragi_, on the other, _Reno S. Chauvin_. Tifa turned and buried her face into the big man's chest, believing that MAKO poisoning had, indeed, killed her twenty-seven-year-old friend. Only Rude knew the truth. And only Rude would ever know the truth. On his pride as a Turk, Rude Jackson swore to himself to never give away Yuffie Kisaragi's secret. So, they said farewell to the deceased lovers and left the cemetary, Tifa with tear streaks on her pretty face, Rude with another sin to add to his list of many. The sin of lying to his girlfriend.

_**fin.**_

**_YK2: Hope you enjoyed that dramatic bit of depression. Kinda short, but I was in utter dismay at the writer's block I am experiencing when it comes to my Yuffentine, "Don't Cry". _**

_**Dracon: It's because Surka's too damn lazy to work.**_

_**Sruak: Hey! I don't see YOU helping her!**_

_**YK2: CHILDREN! --sigh-- Please review!**_

_**-Till Next Time! Audi!!!**_

_**-Yuffie Kisaragi2, Dracon Fira, and Surka Sokyu-**_


End file.
